[Carillon]

The sun was shining as Jaelle shifted the leather bag on her shoulder. The gold dragon statue watched her do so, and she fought back the urge to stick her tongue out at it, or make some rude gesture. After so many weeks of daily visits, she had finally grown more comfortable with the Rofireinite priests and they seemed to accept her presence in the children's rooms, but still she never lingered there after her time with the children was done. Their temple would never be a place in which she would feel at home.

She thought about the last few weeks as she mounted the steps to the temple, and how much the children had changed. They seemed better now, and those odd strained moments were becoming less frequent. One of the priests had also told her that the nightmares were coming less frequently now. Liam still hadn't spoken or showed interest in anything around him, but there was change in him as well; it was merely that the change came more slowly. Observing it was like trying to watch a tree grow or a flower blossom: one only noticed the difference when one compared it to what it had been a week or a month or a year ago.

She was looking forward to her visit today, even more than usual. She had perfected her latest illusion last night, and was planning to coax a smile out of Finn with it. She had also brought a little wooden carving with her that Oriana had sent from Corsain, along with her latest gown. It depicted one of the Corsainese cities before the fall—though Jaelle did not know which one—and she thought the children would like to see the slanted roofs of all the buildings.

These were Jaelle's thoughts as she crossed the temple threshold. So absorbed was she that she didn't hear the priest call her name. He had to hurry over and touch her arm as she walked toward the corridor leading to the children's room, and at first she couldn't make out what he was trying to say. An uncle? Impossible ... they had no family in the city. (She had inquired, of course.) That Liam had shown the first spark of interest last night ... her heart quickened a little at that, and she forgot the other thing for a moment, distracted by the happy news. That he was sorry that she had not had a chance to say goodbye ... and then she realized what he was telling her, and her eyes widened in surprise: the children had been claimed.

The first suspicion was like an icy blade through her gut. Later, she would not be able to recall exactly what the priest had said, but she would remember the strange feeling of dread and certainty. The uncomfortable sensation that made her suspect the bottom had fallen out of her stomach only deepened when he handed her the letter. Some distant part of her mind registered his words as she unfolded it. He was saying that the uncle had specifically left it for her when he had heard how much time she had spent at the temple with the children. He had told the priests he wanted his gratitude to be known.

And then she heard nothing more from the priest, and knew only the words on the scroll that shook in her hands as she read:


Rarely have so few caused me such bother.

As such, though I usually take no pleasure in the pain of innocents,
I shall spare these four children no hurt, no pain ... no suffering will
remain unknown to them.

Know this: that my words are truth—not threats, just promises. And
this burden shall be yours to carry evermore.


As the Rofireinite priest watched her reaction with growing concern, Jaelle uttered a heartfelt curse and stared at the letter in disbelief.